The Trail
by pulchra fabula
Summary: Part 4 of "The Damian Effect". While Agent Gibbs and his team are assisting Dick Grayson in finding his younger brother, Alex Rider, former teenage spy, comes to Washington determined to help-no matter how hard Gibbs protests. The six get much more than they bargained for when the find Slade Wilson is still in town-causing more trouble than ever.
1. Chapter 1

**I present to you the next installment of "The Damian Effect". I hope you enjoy and thank you for all of your support!**

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"Where's Dick Grayson?" were the first words out of the teenager's mouth. Gibbs glanced down at the child, a tan and slightly muscular teenage boy with dirty blonde hair. He looked about fifteen and he was British, judging by his accent. The fact the kid knew who Dick was made Gibbs on edge.

"I'm sorry, but who exactly are you?" he asked, motioning for Tony to get Grayson.

"A fairy godmother," the teen replied snappishly. "Now are you just going to stand there, or are we going to find Damian?" He ducked passed Gibbs and walked over to McGee's desk.

"Stop it right now," Gibbs ordered, grabbing the kid by the arm. "Who are you and why are you here."

"I'm here to help Damian, so if you don't mind—" the teenager angrily retorted, yanking his arm out of Gibbs grasp and spinning around to face a startled Dick Grayson.

"Now who are you?" Dick asked the teenager.

"I'm Alex, Damian's friend," the teen replied, "and I'm pretty pissed that no one called to let me know he was missing. I had to run into Tim to find out what was going on! And he wasn't very helpful about the whole thing," Alex grumbled.

"Alex who?" Dick asked suspiciously. "And how do you know Damian? He isn't very social."

"Rider. Alex Rider. I met Damian when he was in California. We bonded when we were kidnapped together. He got shot in the shoulder and I called Tim and his friends to pick him up in the park. Did he tell you this at all?" Alex inquired, an edge of venom to his voice.

"Yeah, and I was not happy to receive that phone call," Dick muttered. "Look, Alex, I'm sorry I didn't call you, but I really don't see how you can help. Stay the night and then I'll pay for your ticket home."

"I'm not going home!"

"Listen kid," Gibbs interrupted, "even if you could help, you can't. This is an investigation. That means no civilians allowed. Grayson is a cop, so he can be here. You are not only underage, but a civilian as well. Who let you up here?"

Alex ignored Gibbs question. "Look, I—"

"Hold on," Tony interrupted, "Boss brings up a very good point. How the hell did you get past security?"

"I have a badge," Alex tonelessly replied as he held it up for them to inspect.

"We didn't get a call…" McGee slowly said. At his words, Gibbs, Tony, Ziva, and Grayson surround Alex.

Alex looked at the four of them and gave a twisted smile. "You're not intimidating; I can take you. I'm not a normal kid."

"Gibbs!" a new voice barked, causing Gibbs and company to look at the source of the voice: NCIS Director Leon Vance. "Just what—" here the director stopped as he caught sight of Alex. He quickly came down the stairs to stand in front of the teenager.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he snapped at Alex, who simply studied the man in front of him. "Answer me—why did MI6 send you?"

"I'm through with them," Alex coldly stated. "I'm here for my own reason. Who are you and how do you know me?"

"I'm NCIS Director Leon Vance," Vance replied in a steely tone. "And I was on the _USS Kitty Hawk_ when it picked up a teenage British boy in a space capsule. We were sworn to secrecy, of course, Official Secrets Act and all of that. But I have some clearance, so I was able to do some digging, Agent Rider. You're quite impressive. I don't believe you quit. So why don't you tell me the real reason you're here."

"I'm terribly sorry to inform you, _Director_," Alex emphasized the word with a sarcastic undertone, "and too break the news to you, but I am no longer working for MI6. After I completed my final mission and watched the only person who cared about me get blown sky-high, MI6 had nothing on me anymore. I live in the States now; I have no ties to Blunt or Jones."

"So why are you here?"

"This may come as a shock to you cold-hearted Heads, but my friend has been kidnapped. I'm here to try to get him back," Alex told the Director. Everyone was shocked at the tone that the whole conversation had been held in, but mostly they were still trying to process that the teenager before them was a spy.

Vance gave Alex an appraising look. Alex stared him back in the eye, neither flinching nor backing down. "Fine, Agent Rider, you're now assigned to assist Gibbs and his team and Officer Grayson. Anyone bothers you, send them to me."

"Thank you Director," Alex replied. Vance waited a moment, giving them all a hard glare, before going back to his office. On the steps, he seemed to think of something, as he turned to face the group below him.

"One more thing Rider," Vance said. "You had 100% success rate when we picked you up in the Pacific. That ever change?"

"Not in the area that you care about," Alex shot back. "All missions completed. All people didn't make it," he said bitterly.

Vance hesitated, "I'm sorry."

Alex gave a cold, derisive laugh; the team looked at him in shock. "Yeah, alright. Go back to your office Vance. I'm done with fake pity." Vance looked startled and offended, but Alex and already turned his back on the Director and was clutching McGee's desk like it was a life-line. Vance and Gibbs exchanged a look and Vance went back to his office.

"Um…Alex?" Grayson began, but Alex brushed him off and turned to face Gibbs. "I'm not a civilian. Shall we get to work?"

"Wait!" Tony interrupted before his boss could say anything. "I still want to know how you got passed security."

Alex sighed and rolled his eyes, "I pick-pocketed someone." At their surprised gasps, he huffed in annoyance, "You know it really isn't that hard."

Tim McGee was looking at the kid with amazement, Tony was grinning with glee. Ziva was studying the teenager, as was Gibbs, while Grayson assessed the boy in front of him. When it appeared no one else was going to make a move, Dick stepped forward.

"Hi, I'm Dick Grayson, and this is the NCIS team, lead by Agent Gibbs: Tony DiNozzo, Tim McGee, and Ziva David." As he point to each person, they nodded at the British spy.

"Great. Can we get to work now? I've been kidnapped before, and it's not very fun," Alex said, turning and missing the startled looks that they sent each other.

"What exactly did you do for MI6—" Gibbs began but Alex cut him off with "Classified."

"Don't you give me that classified crap," Gibbs ordered him. "You're on my team now—that means my rules. Understood?" Alex raised an eyebrow and him, but only nodded. "That means tell me what I want to know, got it?" Again, Alex nodded but said nothing.

"So," Gibbs continued slowly and deliberately, "you're going to answer my question, understand?" Another nod, this one accompanied by a huff and arms being crossed." I'm doing this so I know that we can trust you, alright?" Alex only rolled his eyes, keeping his "angered-teenaged" stance.

"Who taught you how to pick-pocket someone?" Gibbs asked.

"Uncle."

"Why?"

"Game."

"Parents?"

"Dead."

"How?"

"Is that really your business?"

"_Yes._"

"Plane crash."

"Was your uncle the one you watched die?"

"No."

"Who was?"

"Jack."

"Who?"

"My housekeeper. She was American, like you. She was like my older sister," Alex said quietly and softly.

"Where is your uncle?"

"Dead."

"How?"

"Assassination."

"What?" Tony interrupted, confused.

"Quiet DiNozzo," Gibbs ordered. "Why was your uncle assassinated Alex?"

"Occupational hazard of the job."

"What job?"

"Being a spy," Alex replied, the _duh_ in his voice conveyed perfectly in his tone.

"Is that why you became a spy? To follow in your uncle's footsteps?"

The cold and derisive laugh came from Alex again as he fixed Gibbs with a cold stare, "Hell no."

"Why did you become a spy then?"

"I find that many in the spy business use alternative means to get what they want," was Alex's response. "Look, can this wait for another time? I'm kind of proud you're mad about the whole 'using me when I'm underage' thing, but now isn't the time to grow a heart about ethics. Let's focus on finding Damian, alright?"

"How many mission?" Gibbs asked. "Last question."

"Nine in a little over a year."

"And you're what, sixteen?" Tony asked, shocked.

"I'm fifteen," Alex tonelessly replied. "I 'retired' a few months ago."

"Just what the hell—" Gibbs began to exclaim, but Alex cut him off, round on the agents with fury in his eyes.

"Stop. Just stop. I don't have to explain my life to you. I don't _want_ to explain my life to you. I don't want to re-live it with all of you. Can you please, just this once, leave it alone?" Alex pleaded, the anger in his voice replaced by a weary tone. Gibbs was about to argue, as he hated spies, and all of their government secrets. But the boy looked so weary and sad, that Gibbs decided to let it go—for now. He was still furious that MI6 had used a 14-year-old, but his anger and questions could wait for another time. He nodded at Alex, and relief lit up in the boy's eyes.

"We're sorry Alex," Dick said, pulling the child into a hug. Alex flinched at the unexpected contact, but gingerly returned the hug. Dick released him and smiled.

"Sorry about that, Alex," Grayson apologized, grinning sheepishly. "Damian hates when I do that to him, but I hate seeing people sad. At least you didn't pull a ninja move to get out of it," Dick added lightly at the end. Alex offered Dick a small smile, then turned to the rest of the room.

"So," the teen asked, "who wants to fill me in?"

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**So here's the beginning; I promise that it speeds up in later chapters. **

**I really hope you guys liked it- please please please leave me a review to let me know what you think or any constructive criticism you have. Thanks so much!**


	2. Chapter 2

"Damian Wayne, age 10, was kidnapped in Gotham City thirteen days ago between Wayne Manor and his school. Since his father was working at Wayne Towers the entire day, he did not notice his son's absence until much later that night when he went to see if Damian was in bed. Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne estate butler, who was usually at the Manor, was away for the day assisting with the preparations for the Wayne Foundation Ball to be held in three weeks time. Both of their alibis have been cleared," Tony recited.

Ziva began where he left off, "Bruce then called Dick Grayson, who did not answer his call, as he was on duty in Buldhaven. His partner Amy Rohrbach has confirmed this. After leaving Officer Grayson a voicemail, Bruce called his other son, Timothy Drake, who is staying with friends in California. Tim's whereabouts at the time of the kidnapping are confirmed, and he has not heard from Damian. Bruce made several more calls to people that might have seen Damian, but no one was with him. Bruce then called Commissioner Gordon of the Gotham City Police Department, and forces have been looking for the child since."

"It hasn't gone to the press yet," McGee told Alex, "because Wayne doesn't want to give the kidnappers more publicity or endanger Damian. No note or ransom was demanded, which is extremely strange. Four days ago, while we were investigating the death of a Petty Officer, we found Damian tied up in a room with a sign around his neck." McGee made a motion to put the picture on the big screen, but looked at Alex and hesitated.

"Put it up please," Alex requested, noticing Tim's hesitation. "I can handle it; I swear."

Looking at Gibbs and receiving the approving nod, Tim pulled up the photo on the screen. Alex sucked in his breath when he saw the state that Damian was in; blood was everywhere and Damian look…helpless. He was too thin and he was bound in a way that he, in his weakened state, could not escape. Yet…looking at Damian's eyes, Alex could still see the determination in them and knew Damian would fight tooth and nail until the very end.

"How'd you get the picture?" Alex asked curiously. Tony quickly explained how Damian had led them to the hidden room he was in by making noise—he would pull himself up on the rope and drop his knees, but when they tried to free him, he kept shaking his head "no" and staring at their cameras. Getting the message, they took some to study later. Alex shook in head in exasperation, "Damian would do something like that. He wants everything accounted for and documented."

"How would you know?" Dick curiously asked, facing away from the horrifying photos. "I mean, I know it because I live with him. But he only met you once."

"Few times, actually. After the whole kidnapping attempt, he came by a few days later. Wanted to know everything about me so that he could figure out why Shaw and Larson wanted to kidnap me. It was amazing to watch, really—Damian sure knows his stuff. He'll make an excellent detective someday."

"He already is," Dick murmured softly so that no one could hear. Louder he said, "Continue the explanation please, Tim."

"Sure thing Dick," Tim responded. He zoomed in on the picture, to allow everyone to clearly see the sign that was hung around Damian's neck. "Ziva translated this sign for us; it says 'Your move, Beloved,' and Dick had told us that it is from Damian's mother, who only refers to Bruce as 'Beloved.' We have been unable to contact this woman."

"Four days ago," Gibbs turned to face Alex now, "on the same day we rescued him, Damian was abducted again. He had barely been conscious for an hour when Deathstroke came here. He came through the window and demanded Damian come with him or he'd start killing everyone. Damian threw McGee off of him and agreed to the man's demands. He was clothed only in a hooded sweatshirt and sweatpants—he wounds had just been dressed and cared for. Ducky, our medical examiner, was surprise the kid was up with the amount of drugs and painkillers he had given him. Damian walked over in his bare feet, through the shards of glass with his head and hands held high. When he was within arm's reach, Deathstroke, who had been training his gun on me, shot Damian in the stomach. He stumbled and fell onto all of that glass and landed at the man's feet. He told us that if we made one move, he'd blow the kids brains out. He threw Damian over his shoulder and threatened us to wait 10 minutes before we did or said anything, or he'd send back Damian's fingers—one for each minute we didn't give him."

Alex was furious, "That bloody bastard!" Dick was biting his lower lip, hands clenched tightly together. Alex was sure that, even for the number of times the story hand been re-accounted, it never got easier to hear it. Even Gibbs and his team were emotional as they recited it.

Gibbs gave Alex an understanding and knowing look. "We did as he wanted—no movement or sound for 10 minutes. After the time was up, McGee told us that Damian had left him with instructions—call Grayson and tell him 'Red X.'"

"So they did," Grayson finished. "And I came up here as soon as I could."

"How long was Damian held captive the first time? Eight days?" Alex asked quietly.

Officer Grayson looked down at the teenager and nodded. Alex could see the sadness and despair in his eyes. "Here," the officer said suddenly, pulling out his cell phone, "listen to the message Bruce left me."

Alex held the phone to his ear and the recording played. "Hey, Dick, this is Bruce. I'm sorry to bother you when you have patrol, but I can't find Damian. Alfred was gone the entire day, so I thought maybe he went to your place? We all know how he likes you more than the rest of us…I hate to admit it, but I'm worried Dick. Damian's been on edge lately, but I've been so busy at work that I just…" a heavy sigh, "Just…call me when you get this to let me know he's safe with you. Tell him I'm not mad, but to answer his cell phone—I gave it to him for a reason. Alright…call me when you get this. Bye." Alex looked up at Grayson, who sighed.

"That's the first one. I texted Bruce saying the Damian wasn't with me, but to try his cell again and call anyone he could possibly be with. I thought he could be with his dog Titus wandering the grounds—he does that a lot. I had to go back to questioning a subject, so I didn't know what was going on or get this until later."

Alex listened to the next message as the NCIS team worked intently, having already heard both messages. "Dick? Dick I need you to call me as soon as you get this. Damian's missing. I'm almost sure of it. His phone is under his bed, off—I don't think he took it with him this morning. Titus is here as well, and he hasn't been walked—and Damian always walks Titus. I check the security feeds—Damian never came home. I mean, he might have pulled his stunts where he goes in all the blind spots, but I made sure he couldn't! And there's no evidence that he even came home at all! Tim hasn't spoken to him in a week, Stephanie said Damian sent her an email two days ago, but that's it. No one has seen Damian today since he left school at 2 o'clock today. That's over nine hours Dick! What happened to him? What do we do? I'm going to call Commissioner Gordon. Call me immediately if Damian turns up at your place, ok?" The voicemail ended abruptly as Bruce hung up.

"Bruce always said he was going to regret me allowing Damian so much freedom," Dick said in a joking manner, but the sadness in his voice was evident.

"Boss, I may have a lead," McGee said, as he hung up the phone and Dick practically leaped over to where he was.

"What is it Probie?" Tony anxiously asked.

"Motel said they had a person matching Damian and Deathstroke's descriptions rent a room for the night two nights ago," Tim replied.

"Let's move out," Gibbs ordered. "Tim, with me. Tony with Ziva. Grayson and Rider, you two will stay back a bit, understand me? Affirmative nods and the six were on their way.

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**Sorry for the wait- internet malfunction.**

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	3. Chapter 3

"Grayson, you hear me?" Tony asked over the coms once everyone was in place staking out the motel

"Loud and clear, Tony," Dick replied. "Alex and I are watching the back, as ordered."

"Good. Gibbs and Tim are inside, I'm covering the front, and Ziva's doing some interviewing."

"Alright. Call when you need us," Dick said, and signed off. Sighing, he turned to look at Alex, who was staring intently at the empty warehouse behind the motel. "What is it Alex?"

"That warehouse is pretty desolate," Alex muttered, "and strategically placed. You could hide lots of things in it or on it…" he trailed off, deep in thought. "Be right back," he called to Dick as he leaped out of the car and ran over to the warehouse.

"Alex! Crap! Kid I—" Dick began but was cut off by the ringing of his phone. Glancing down at the caller ID, he picked it up when he saw that it was Jason Todd. His younger brother, the second Robin and current Red Hood so-called "black sheep of the family", was with his friend in New York trying to find legal ways to keep Damian with Bruce instead of Talia. Hoping it was good news, Dick picked up the phone.

"Jason I—hang on—" he began but cut himself off when he saw Alex had used the fire ladder to scale the side of the building. Dick grabbed the binoculars and looked at Alex's hand. He was standing on the roof and lit what appeared to be a match. "Alex! If you blow up that building I swear to god I will not stop Gibbs from kicking your ass." Dick called frantically, wondering what the hell Alex was doing with a _burning match_ on the top of an empty and unstable looking building.

"This will only take a second!" Alex called back, a grin on his face visible through the binoculars. He dropped the match and Dick almost had a heart attack as he saw the flames.

"I don't care! Get your spy butt in the car right now before someone sees and shoots you!" Dick was panicking. Gibbs would have his head if anything happened to the kid considering they were both supposed to "_stay in the car and don't do anything stupid"_. Alex sure wasn't paying attention to Gibbs when he said that.

"Hey, calm down," Alex called back. "I've got something. And I've escaped a burning building before if that helps," he causally shouted down. Dick flipped—he had been in a burning building and escaped. Somehow, Dick didn't think the fire he was talking about had been accidental, which only added to his anger.

"I don't care if you've escaped a burning building before! Get down here this instant!" Dick yelled angrily. Alex nodded and began to make his way to the fire escape. Dick turned his attention back to his younger brother "—Sorry Jay, what's the problem?" he asked, tiredly.

"Well," a voice that wasn't Jason began, Dick placed it as the guy from a few nights ago—Mike something or other.

"Bruce and the lawyer are being a bunch of high-school assholes," Jason interrupted angrily. Dick sighed, he so was not in the mood for this.

"Jason, language," Dick absently said he caught sight of Alex crouching by the side on the roof. "Alex! You have 10 seconds or I send Ziva after you!"

"Dick!" Jason yelled through the phone and Dick almost jumped in surprise. The anger and fury in Jason's voice was overwhelming. "Bruce and Harvey don't get along and Bruce wants to walk out, but I did my research and so did Mike and Harvey's the best there is, so can you please just tell the both to get over it and do something! The more time they waste, the more of a head start Talia could get on this!" Jason ranted in one long breath, and Dick silently thanked his brother for calling him and not doing anything rash. However, Dick was furious that Bruce could not swallow his pride, _just this once_, and that Harvey Specter couldn't do his job correctly.

"Jason, you are absolutely right," Dick seriously said keeping himself calm for the moment. He closed his eyes and counted to 10, praying for patience. "Harvey and Bruce, step closer to the phone please." Dick didn't hear a sound, so he knew neither of them did anything. Fine, then, he thought, we'll do it the hard way. "Now, I know you didn't do it, so I'll just be really loud, alright?" Dick decided to screw patience and get the message across as best as he could—there was no other way the two "big-shots" would listen.

"Will you two please pull your heads out of your asses!" Dick screamed at the top of his lungs, his voice filling the car. Alex, up on the roof heard and stood, nervous and curious; seeing Dick on the phone, he smiled and crouched down again. Dick rolled his eyes; he'd deal with the kid not following his orders later, if Gibbs didn't get to him first. "This is a very serious matter, I would expect the two of you to quit acting like the womanizers you are and begin to act like the grown men two are supposed to be! I do not care about the past, what the girl's name was, or anything like that, do you understand me? All I care about is finding Damian and making sure Talia doesn't hurt him ever again! You may not care about your son all that much Bruce, but I sure as hell do! So stop screwing around, both of you make peace, and do something goddamnit! Or so help me god, I will be on the next flight back to New York! Specter, deflate your ego, just this once, and focus solely on the case. Bruce, deflate_ your_ ego and help him! Am I understood?" Dick finished, not really realizing that he had been yelling the entire time. He had no idea how worked up he was about all of this. He waited for an answer, possibly an apology from Bruce and the man's promises that he would do everything to find Damian. Instead, there was nothing but silence on the other end of the line.

"I said—am I understood!" Dick yelled, angry beyond belief that Bruce wasn't doing all he could to help his son. He heard Harvey and Bruce mumbled a yes to his question, and sighed in annoyance. This was an extremely horrible day; Dick really needed peace and his headache to stop pounding. But it looked like that wasn't going to happen.

"Good, because I—" Dick began, a little calmer but he soon panicked as he caught sight of someone sneaking up behind Alex on the roof. "Alex! Behind you!" Dick called in warning, already out of the car and climbing up the ladder. "—I need to go," Dick quickly told Jason and he rapidly went up the rungs. "Mike, keep up the good work. Jason, keep everyone in line. Call me or Alfred if things get out of hand, okay?" Dick ordered, knowing that Alfred could always manage to get Bruce to do things he didn't want to.

"Yes sir," Jason replied. Dick nodded absently, forgetting Jason couldn't see him.

"Good. Gotta go, bye—Alex!" Dick hung up the cell phone as he called for his partner, hauling himself up onto the roof. He looked around frantically for the boy, but couldn't see him.

"Looking for this, Mr. Grayson," a cruel voice called. Dick whipped his head around to see Slade Wilson, also known as the villain Deathstroke, holding Alex in a perfect position to snap his neck. The teenager had a large bruise forming on the side of his face, and his lip was bleeding. Dick noticed some tears in Slade's shirt and jeans, and he knew that Alex at least got some hits in before he was caught.

"Let the boy go Slade," Dick ordered, mentally going through all of the possible options he had in his head.

"This is one clever lad," Slade Wilson told Dick, ruffling Alex's hair. Dick saw the teen's jaw clench as he flinched away from the contact. "He figured out my message."

"He has nothing to do with this," Dick told Slade. "Let him go."

Slade gave a cold laugh. "Nothing to do with it, Dick? He's as involved in this as the NCIS agents downstairs are. More so, even. Your little Robin cares about this boy. I can break Damian like I tried to break you if I kill this teenager. When will you learn that friends hold you back?

"Don't you dare, Slade!" Dick shouted. "Alex has nothing to do with you and me. Neither does Damian. So why don't you just tell me what you want and let both of them go?"

"My dear, dear Dick, you know I can't do that," Slade responded. "I want you to suffer. Talia wants Bruce to suffer. We managed to come to a mutual and beneficial agreement." Angered, Dick took a step towards Slade, but the mercenary merely tightened his hold on Alex. "One more step, and this boy dies." Dick stopped, glaring daggers at Deathstroke.

"Come with me boy," Slade said, dragging Alex away, "I need your help in breaking a particularly stubborn pre-teen." Alex stumbled, causing Slade to trip over the boy's feet and reflexively hold out a hand to catch himself. While the mercenary was confused, Alex twisted from his grasp, delivered a vicious kick, and ran toward Dick. As he did so, hit lit a match and flicked it over his shoulder. Parts of the roof ignited and Deathstroke swore as the flame created a wall between him and his targets.

"Smart boy," Slade told Dick. "Careful, or he'll be the next bat-in-training. And boy," Slade stared coldly at Alex, "Damian will be paying for you actions today." With that, Slade leapt off the roof.

Dick began to run from the flames, but stopped when he realized Alex wasn't with him. He ran back to the teenager, who gazed up at the man in despair. "Dick, what have I done?" Alex whispered. "I shouldn't have…I…Damian's going to be hurt because of something I did!" The teen was angry at himself, and Dick could understand the guilt, but he knew it wasn't Alex's fault.

"Alex, look," Dick said gently, aware of the flames getting closer and closer, "you did the right thing. You would have been dead otherwise. And Slade is going to hurt Damian either way," it hurt Dick to say that, but he needed to assure Alex that he wasn't at fault, "and Damian would have broken if you died Alex—I'm sure of it. Don't blame yourself, alright?"

Dick got a small nod. "Alright, now we really need to get out of here," Dick said, and he grabbed Alex's hand as he turned and ran toward the edge of the building. He motioned for Alex to begin climbing down the ladder, and the boy obliged. Dick scanned the skies, wondering where Slade could possibly have hidden, and more importantly—where Damian was. He was so focused, he forgot his surroundings and nearly fell a few stories when the roof collapsed.

Thankfully, he had his reactions and skills honed by Batman. Barely thinking about it, Dick flipped off the burning roof and landed on the motel roof. Still on autopilot, Dick flipped off that roof, swung around on a flag pole, did a handspring as he touched the sidewalk, and stuck the landing. He turned around only to find Alex staring at him opened-mouth.

"Um…" Dick began to say.

"You're Nightwing. And Damian is Robin. Which means Bruce Wayne is Batman. And Slade is Deathstroke, Nightwing's greatest enemy. And I bet Tim and his friends are the Teen Titans," the words tumbled from Alex's mouth as he stared wide-eyed at Dick. "Oh my god, I need a drink," he muttered, sitting on the sidewalk and resting his head in his hands.

"Grayson! Rider! Thank god you're okay! What the hell happened?" Gibbs thundered as he, Ziva, Tony, and Tim raced to the two on the sidewalk, guns drawn.

"Alex? You alright?" Tony asked. Alex sighed.

"Gibbs I—" Dick began to try and explain, but Alex cut him off.

"It was my fault," Alex said. "I realized that the warehouse would be a perfect place to hide something, so I went to check it out. Though I saw something on the roof, but it turned out someone didn't want us finding anything. As soon as I stepped on the roof, Deathstroke attacked me and lit the place on fire. Dick saved me, but Deathstroke got away."

"Uh…" was all Dick had to intelligently add to Alex's story. He mind was spinning—Alex had figured it all out, but he wasn't telling anyone. Part of him was suspicious, but the greater part was thankful.

Everyone stood awkwardly for about twenty minutes while Gibbs yelled at Alex for disobeying orders, endangering himself, etc. Finally, Gibbs ordered him to get in his car so they could get back to headquarters. Tim would drive with Dick. Alex just rolled his eyes once Gibbs and his team had turned around. He sent a wink at Dick and followed Gibbs to the car. Tim exchanged a few more words with Gibbs before coming back to Dick.

"Does Alex have a death wish?" McGee questioned as he watched the teenager walk off with his boss.

"Apparently," Dick replied as he and McGee drove back to the NCIS building.

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	4. Chapter 4

Gibbs was still fuming at Alex, and Tony and Ziva sat awkwardly in the car as the tense silence covered them all. Gibbs was driving more recklessly than normal, and Tony was doing all he could not to scream as his boss made a 45 degree turn. Ziva and Alex sat in the back, both calm and unaffected. Alex made no attempt to try to smooth things over with Gibbs, which left Tony wondering how things would turn out.

Tony knew that Boss was only this mad because he was worried about the safety of the kid, but the kid wasn't worried about his own. Gibbs hated cases that involved children because he felt that they did not deserve to have their childhood taken from them. And, since Alex was way more involved than most kids, Gibbs' outrage at his predicament spilled over into anger when the teen disobeyed orders and managed to get himself hurt, as evident by his swollen face and bleeding lip.

Once they got back, Gibbs still ignoring Alex, Tony and Ziva relayed the information they found to Dick. They explain how only the night clerk had seen Deathstroke and Damian, and the room had been paid for with cash and was empty the next morning. No one had seen anything and the room was clean.

"So, nothing, right?" Dick asked tiredly. He sighed and sat down in the chair he pulled next to Ziva's desk. Tony hesitated and nodded sadly.

"But don't worry, Boss, Dick," Tony added quickly, "we'll keep digging."

"I have something," Alex nonchalantly commented from his spot on the floor between McGee and DiNozzo's desk.

"What!?" the team practically all shouted at him, with the exception on Gibbs who just glared at him.

Alex grinned up at them as he pulled a crumpled piece of paper and a key from him pocket. He held them up like they were the Holy Grail. Tony came over and snatched both objects from Alex's hand.

"Hey," Alex protested, but he was ignored. Tim took the paper from Tony, and studied it.

"Boss, I think it's an account number," McGee said already walking over to his desk to run it through the system.

"What does the key unlock?" Ziva asked, looking down at Alex, who shrugged.

"How should I know? Why don't you ask Deathstroke?" he responded and Gibbs whirled around to face the teenager.

"These were Deathstroke's?" Gibbs thundered.

"Yep," Alex replied casually.

"How the hell did you get these, kid?"

"Nicked 'em," Alex told the lead agent as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He sighed and rolled his eyes at the shocked expressions on the agents' faces. "You people really doubt my spy skills," he muttered, huffing and crossing his arms in annoyance.

"How did you steal from a guy in spandex?" Tony questioned. "Wait, do I even want to know…"

"Sod off Tony," Alex testily shot back. "He wasn't wearing spandex; he was in black jeans and a collared shirt. So it was quite easy, for the record."

"When did you steal it?" Ziva inquired, impressed at the boy's skill.

"When I was in a head-lock and trying to get out of it," Alex answered, now fiddling with a pen he had snatched from Tony's desk. Dick sighed and threw up his hands.

"Of course you did," the Officer muttered. "God, no wonder you and Damian are friends—he'd probably do the exact same thing." Alex shot the adults a twisted smile.

"Is he going to know you stole it?" Gibbs sternly asked, calling attention to the possible trouble Alex could be in. The teen shrugged, indifferent, which only served to make Gibbs angrier. "Do you have any idea how much danger you could be in? Did you even think of the consequences?"

"I did, actually," Alex interrupted Gibbs, staring at him straight on. "He already knew what I looked like; he probably thinks I'm dead. The things I stole burned with the rest of my body. Look, problem solved."

Gibbs stared at Alex before storming off with an "I'm going down to Abby's." Dick looked around and noticed the three NCIS agents glaring at Alex.

"I'm going to outside to call Alfred and Tim for and update," Grayson announced hastily. "Be back soon." He walked off, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket.

Once the elevator doors closed, Tony sighed at Alex, "Nice job kid."

"I didn't do anything wrong!" Alex protested.

"You disobeyed orders and ended up almost dying," Tim explained. "How is that 'not doing anything?'"

"When you're a spy, you take risks," Alex defended himself.

"I did not take as many risks as you claim to," Ziva argued back. Alex rolled his eyes at her.

"Yeah, but since you were Mossad, you were probably sniping people left and right," Alex harshly replied. "No need to get your hands too dirty."

Ziva turned red, "You take that back!"

"Look," Alex jumped up and short to his feet, "I don't want to hear you complaining! I've almost died dozens of times! The only way I survived was by being reckless and risky. Besides—I got the information, so why do you care?"

The three agents were taken aback at Alex's anger. Hesitating, Tony finally spoke, "You were on the roof of a burning building—of course we care. Weren't you worried?"

"Escape from a burning building? Been there, done that," Alex told them as he tossed the pen back onto Tony's desk.

"Ha ha, that's funny," Tony retorted but paused in his mocking when Alex didn't respond but only proceeded to head toward the elevators. "Wait, you weren't being serious were you? Alex? Alex!" Tony called as the elevators closed on Alex giving Tony the finger with a wry smirk on his face. Stunned, Tony turned to face his teammates. "He wasn't being serious, was he?"

Ziva nodded solemnly, "I do believe that he was Tony."

"That kid isn't normal!" Tony exclaimed, throwing himself in his chair.

"What clued you into that?" Tim questioned sarcastically. "Was it when he snuck into the NCIS building, when he admitted he was a spy, when Vance recognized him, when he pickpocket a madman, when he—"

"Enough Probie!" Tony shot back. "I just wanted to make a statement…and make sure I wasn't crazy for thinking the kid's…unique."

Ziva made an un-lady sound, similar to a snort, "Unique is one way to describe him. I think he's been train to be like this since he was a baby. They have done it in the Mossad before."

"But he's not Mossad," Tony protested.

"I agree with Ziva," Tim began. "And I—wait, better get Boss, I have the account information."

"Calling Abby now," Tony announced, already dialing the lab.

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	5. Chapter 5

Alex, meanwhile, had followed Dick outside. Not making a sound, he crept up to where the man sat, holding his head in his hands. Waiting for Dick to acknowledge, Alex stood in silence for a few minutes. When it became clear that Dick's mind was elsewhere, Alex cleared his throat to make his presence known.

Dick almost jumped up and attacked him, "Geeze, kid. Never sneak up on me like that again," Dick commented, sitting on the wall.

"I won't," Alex promised. He waited a few seconds before reaching into his pocket and handing Dick and object. "This was part of the message Slade left for you," Alex told him quietly as Dick clutched the piece of green fabric like it was the force keeping him upright. "It's part of his mask, isn't it," the boy pondered softly, then paused. "I'm sorry," the teenage spy whispered, as he turned to walk away.

"Wait," Dick said softly. Alex didn't hear him. "Wait!" Dick called louder, and this time Alex faced the man. Dick motioned for him to walk back over and Alex complied. "What was the message? And how'd you get it?"

"It was written in gas or some flammable liquid. I smelt it when I went on the roof. There was a box of matches resting next to that green cloth. I lit a match and dropped it would I could see the liquid. It went up in flames and was literally a 'fiery message,'" Alex tried to joke. He saw the questions in Dick's eyes and answered before the officer could speak. "It said 'Nightwing and Robin, two birds with one stone.'"

"Damn him to the deepest parts of hell," Dick cursed and Alex was taken aback at how much venom was in his statement.

"If…"Alex hesitated, "if it's not too much trouble, could you please explain to me what's going on? I swear I won't say anything."

Dick leveled Alex with a gaze that Alex was sure was reading his very soul; after was seemed to Alex like Judgment Day, Dick patted the spot next to him. Alex sat down, making barely any noise at all. "You were right, you know," Dick said and Alex gave him a questioning look. "Back what you said at the motel; after you saw my flip off the building, you were right. We are who you thought we were. We all have our own reasons for doing what we do. Damian had a…a different upbringing from the rest of us."

"His mom was crazy, wasn't she?" Alex inquired with a smile.

Dick allowed himself a small smile. "Not 'crazy' exactly, but she…well she—"

"Trained Damian to be a crazy little ninja assassin child?" Alex guessed. Dick whirled around and looked at the teenager in shock.

"How…" he asked.

Alex shrugged. "All the signs were there. I was trained to be a spy since I could walk—everything I do comes naturally to me. Damian's the same way. It's not practice what he does; he doesn't think about it. It's his instinct. Agent Ziva David is the same way, but not to the extreme that Damian is." Alex took note of the startled look on Dick's face and elaborated. "When Damian and I were going after the people that wanted to kidnap me, I noticed. It was little things he did that no other ten-year-old, myself included, could do. He knew the right spots to hit, could follow the littlest clues left behind and he doesn't show or give into pain. Normal ten-year-old kids cry when they fall and scrap their knees badly; even if they don't cry, they at least cry out when it happens, get really quiet and try not to show that they feel the pain and hurt. Damian doesn't do that. When we were kidnapped, he was shot in the shoulder—he didn't cry or scream or anything. When he was tossed into the van and landed on his hurt shoulder, his only response was to try an escape—he kicked one of our captors. I noticed too, how Damian seemed to be holding back whenever we confronted the men who orchestrated my capture. Look, Dick," Alex positioned himself so that he was looking directly into the man's eyes, "I had my suspicions that Damian was special. He didn't tell me anything, but you can't really hide anything from the best teenage spy out there," Alex concluded with a wry grin.

Dick let out a hallow laugh, "When did you two go after those guys?"

Alex smirked, "A few weeks ago."

"That wouldn't be the weekend he spent 'camping' with a friend, would it?"

"Well, that depends on your definition of 'camping,'" Alex smirked again. "I mean, we did spend time in the woods. By ourselves. Hunting things. We did skip the campfires though," Alex added as an afterthought.

Dick rolled his eyes, "I feel like you two should be chaperoned at all times. Who knows what mayhem you two could cause?"

"The two of us decided how best to take over the world," Alex replied seriously. Dick whirled around in shock and panic, only to see Alex barely holding back laughter. Grayson sighed and sat back down.

"If we get him back, you two can plot world domination all you want," he muttered, bringing them back to the gravity of the issue.

Alex, immediately serious again, stared at the green cloth that Dick still clutched in his hand. "What does the message mean?" Dick just turned his gaze on the child. "Does it go back to what he said on the roof? That if Damian dies, you'll die too? Not necessarily physically, but emotionally?" Slowly, Dick nodded. Alex, after hesitating a moment, placed his hand on Dick's shoulder. "Look Dick, I swear I will do everything possible to help get Damian back. I understand how he feels, but he doesn't need to be like me—he has people looking out for him. He'll find a way to come back. I know he will."

Alex spoke with such conviction, that Dick almost believed him. The teenager stood up and made a move as if to walk away. Dick sensed that Gibbs had followed them out and had just arrived behind him. He decided that he should put the awkwardness between the two of them at rest.

"Alex," Dick called, and the teen stopped. "Thank you." Alex shrugged and gave Dick a smile.

"Least I could do, Officer," he responded.

"Alex, I really think you should apologize to Gibbs," Dick told the boy, who was taken aback by the sudden change in thought.

"What? Why?" Alex questioned. "I didn't do anything wrong!"

Dick sighed, knowing Alex had probably just had this exact conversation with the three agents inside. "Look, I get the fact you're used to working alone. You don't have back-up and you take risks because they get answers and answers get you the hell out of there. But Gibbs and his team and I care about you! You are only 15, Alex. 15! These agents aren't used to seeing a teenager with your skills and lifestyle. They worry for you—they want to protect you. That's why Gibbs came down on you so hard. No one wants to believe the horrible things that have happened to you." Dick placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and looked him in the eye. "Alex, I know you've had a different upbringing and work ethic. But please know that the people in there care about you. Don't disregard them or yourself."

Alex, who had been silent throughout Dick's entire speech, simply nodded his head in response. Dick, seeing a younger brother who needed comfort, ruffled Alex's hair. Ducking out of the hold with a grin, Alex waved at Dick as he went back into the building. Dick waited until the teenager was inside the building before he spoke. "You can come out now Gibbs," the Bludhaven cop said with a smile on his face.

"What's with that kid?" Gibbs asked, coming to stand by the younger man.

"Trust-issues. Neglect. Abuse. Torture. Just, you know, the usual problems that come with being a teenage spy," Dick remarked in a bitter voice.

"Ducky noticed the same problems with Damian," Gibbs commented. Dick made no acknowledgement, so Gibbs continued. "That's not to mention that obvious fact that we found him tied up in a hidden room. What exactly did that child learn? And who taught him?"

Dick sighed and looked as Gibbs. "His mother taught him. And even I don't know the extent of what he can do."

"Was his mother a spy? An assassin? A terrorist?"

"She was crazy," was all Grayson would say. The two men stood in silence for a moment before Dick spoke again. "Come on Gibbs, I'm sure they're all wondering what's taking us so long."

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**Guys, I am so so sorry for the long delay in updates. My old laptop died and everything was wiped, so all that I had writtn for everything had to be reworked, which was difficult when starting school again. Please forgive me.**

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	6. Chapter 6

Gibbs gave Dick a knowing smile and led the younger man back into the building. Once they were in the elevator, Gibbs reached over and flipped the switch, stalling the elevator. "How did you know?" he asked referring to how Dick noticed his presence.

Dick shrugged. "Time on the job. You get a lot of strange people in Bludhaven."

"You telling us everything, Grayson?"

"I've told you what you needed to know," Dick evasively replied. Gibbs narrowed his eyes.

"I'm not going to play the politics game—any information that can help, you better give us."

"I can't," Dick glanced at Gibbs apologetically. "It's not that I don't want to share, but if I do, Damian could be in bigger danger than he is now. I will tell you that Deathstroke and I used to know each other—his name's Slade Wilson."

Gibbs grunted. "Anything else?" Dick shook his head in the negative. "Does Rider know more?"

Dick flashed a cheeky grin at the older man. "Depends on what Damian's told him." Gibbs rolled his eyes and flicked the switch again. The rest of the ride was spent in silence; once the two exited the elevator, McGee called Gibbs and Grayson over.

"Boss, we got a hit on the bank account number," he quickly relayed, projecting the information up on screen. "It just transferred half-a-billion dollars to an unknown and private account. I can't get the account information or a name of the recipient, but I'll continue to work on it."

"Don't bother Tim," Dick cut in before Gibbs could say anything. "You won't be able to get any information. We were meant to find this—the name is her calling card. Deamonis Caput. It's Latin for Demon's Head."

"I have heard of this Demon's Head in rumors," Ziva interrupted. "My people believe that it is merely myth."

"Who is this 'Demon's Head'? Tony inquired.

"They are said to be in charge of the League of Assassins," Ziva replied. Alex snorted.

"So, this League, are they like unions? Do they get benefits and tax break?" he asked sardonically. "It's bad enough when there's just one assassin, but now they have an exclusive club as well." He shook his head in disgust. "Fantastic."

"But it doesn't exist, right?" Tim asked.

"I believe it is merely legend and she is using the name to scare you," Ziva told Dick, who made a noncommittal noise as he stared at the screen.

"Does it exist, Grayson?" Gibbs questioned. Dick met his eye and raised an eyebrow.

"You catch on fast Gibbs," the cop said with a grin. Alex groaned and threw up his hands in despair.

"Great, knowing my luck they'll be after me next," he grumbled. "Bloody brilliant."

"They don't exist Alex," Ziva said firmly to reassure the boy; Alex simply looked at Dick for confirmation and rolled his eyes when he saw the officer hesitate.

"Officer Grayson," Ziva protested when she noticed he had said nothing, "you cannot possibly think that such a League exists."

"I think it does," Alex told her. "Damian hasn't been taken by a ghost organization; they're real and they are deadly."

"And it's personal," Tony commented. Dick nodded his head in acknowledgement, while Alex rolled his eyes at the Special Agent stating the obvious.

"But not towards Damian," Gibbs stated and his team looked at him surprised, "it was to get back at you, wasn't it Officer Grayson?"

"What!" Tony exclaimed as Tim and Ziva made noises of disbelief. "Why would Deathstroke be after you?"

"You are _just_ a cop, after all," Alex commented dryly, and cheeky grin on his face. Dick shot him a look, but Alex ignored it.

"I…I used to know him," Dick admitted.

"He isn't your long-lost twin brother or something like that is he?" Tony questioned, attempting to make a joke. Dick shook his head in the negative.

"How did you used to know him?" Ziva inquired.

"It was a life time ago," Dick replied, gazing out the window at the darkening sky. "It shouldn't be this much of a problem."

"Trust me," Alex deadpanned from his spot on the floor, "nothing stays hidden forever. And when everything comes out, it usually causes a massive explosion and blows up right in your face."

"Personal experience?" Gibbs swiftly asked.

Alex huffed in annoyance, "You have no idea. Trust me Dick—things explode. Best you can do is salvage what you can and try not to go insane."

"Believe me," Dick sighed, throwing himself into the nearest chair, "I know."

Gibbs took a long look at his team; Tim sat at his desk, glaring at his computer with frustration trying to location the trail from the bank account. Tony was leaning against his desk glancing anxiously between Gibbs and Alex, who sat on the floor with his back against the wall. Alex, who had his eyes closed and a rather large purple bruise forming on his face, looked almost peaceful and like a regular tired-out fifteen year old. Dick was switching his gaze between the teenager and the ceiling, unable to keep still, while Ziva unobtrusively studied the two visitors: the Buldhaven officer and the teenager on the floor.

"Let's call it a night," Gibbs found himself announcing, and five heads snapped up to meet his.

"Wait, you're telling us to go home?" Tony asked, dumbfounded. "Really?"

"Yes, DiNozzo," Gibbs reiterated, "go home. We're all tired and been working for awhile. Not to mention that Alex is a teenager with jet lag, and he was in a scuffled with Deathstroke today. We all need a good night's sleep."

"As much as I hate to admit it," Dick said, "Agent Gibbs is right. We'll work better when our minds are fresher and well rested."

"What's a good hotel that won't have a problem accepting an underage teenager?" Alex questioned, standing and walking over to Tony's computer and ignoring the agent already there.

"You're going to stay with me kid," Gibbs announced, the words flying out of his mouth before he fully registered their meaning.

"Huh?" was Alex's intelligent response; the rest of the team fared no better—the stood frozen in shock, mouths agape.

"It's too expensive and too much trouble for you to stay in a hotel," Gibbs explained. "DiNozzo is hosting Grayson, so you can stay with me."

"Yes, but they actually like each other and get along," Alex pointed out. "I've been under the impression that you neither like me nor trust me. Forgive me for my surprise."

"I haven't yet made a judgment on you, kid," Gibbs irritably replied. "Don't make me regret my offer." He turned to the others. "Meet back here at 0900. Rider, with me."

Everyone packed their gear and went out to their cars, Dick shooting Alex a warning look as he slide into the passenger side of Gibbs car and sped off.

"That was a big-brother look, wasn't it?" Tony inquired as he and Dick began to drive back to DiNozzo's place.

"Yeah, it was," Dick responded. "I swear, Alex reminds me so much of my brothers it's scary. He's got Jason's stubbornness and rashness, Tim's smarts and skills, and Damian's attitude and instinct."

"He's a special kid," Tony commented and he made a left-hand turn.

Dick huffed to himself and muttered so Tony couldn't hear, "Special isn't the word I'd use. Dangerous or unique? Absolutely."

* * *

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	7. Chapter 7

Gibbs had laid down the law the moment Alex had sat down in his car. If he was hungry, there were some leftovers in the fridge, but if he wasn't, lights were to be out as soon as they got home. He was to go only in the bathroom and his bedroom—not poke around and explore Gibbs' house. If he got up before Gibbs (which the Marine found unlikely) he was to go into the kitchen and eat breakfast.

"Any questions?" Gibbs inquired as he led Alex to the quest bedroom. The teenager was examining his bruised face in the mirror, and at Gibbs' question he shook his head.

"Nah, I'm good," Alex responded. "Don't touch anything, go right to bed, don't cause any trouble. Relax, the house will still be standing when you wake up."

"It better be," Gibbs grumbled as he shut Alex's door and checked to make sure the house was locked before heading down to the basement top work on his boat.

It was around three in the morning when Gibbs was woken up by a loud thump. Thinking that the kid had rolled and fallen off the bed, the Marine sighed and got out of bed. As he placed his hand on the doorknob and heard another sound, he got a gut feeling and grabbed his gun. Walk stealthy down the hallway, Gibbs grew more and more concerned by the muffled sounds coming from the room where Alex was staying. Pausing outside the door, he waited a moment before bursting in, gun at the ready.

"Freeze! Federal agent!" Gibbs screamed and stopped short at the sight in front of him; it was like finding Damian Wayne all over again. Alex Rider was tied to a desk chair, gagged, with blood dripping down his cheek. Slade Wilson stood over the boy, fist pulled back in preparation to deliver another punch to Alex's face.

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs," Slade muttered. "Fancy meeting you again. Do you mind coming back another time—the kid and I have some unfinished business to attend to."

"Step away from him and put your hands where I can see them," Gibbs ordered, assessing Alex with his eyes. The boy was frantically shaking his head at Gibbs and his eyes were wide. Gibbs was unable to do anything before a blow to the head sent him sprawling across the floor. Gibbs struggled as he was forced into a kneeling position and his hands were bound in front of him; he cursed himself for not realize Slade had two men for backup. He saw his gun given to Slade and the man examined it before tossing it aside. Gibbs locked eyes with Alex and tried to convey to the young man that everything would be alright.

Slade gave Gibbs a sinister smile and turned his back on the Marine in order to face Alex. "Now, Gibbs," Slade began, sliding a knife out of it sheath, "perhaps you'll be more forthcoming with information than the boy over here."

Gibbs' eyes widened as Slade held the blade to Alex's neck; the mercenary drew a shallow cut along the teenager's collarbone, causing blood to run onto Alex's shirt. Gibbs saw Alex wince at the pain and he called out to the mercenary.

"Stop! Stop!" Gibbs shouted. "Leave the kid alone—Alex has nothing to do with this!"

Deathstroke chuckled. "You sound just like Grayson—don't either of you two realize just how special this boy is? The potential he has…"

"He isn't yours!" Gibbs shouted, struggling against his bonds and the man holding him.

"I want answers," Slade demanded, ignoring Gibbs' outburst. "So start talking. How much do you know about Bruce Wayne? How about Timothy Drake? Or Damian Wayne? Or Officer Dick Grayson? About vigilantes? How much digging have your really done, Gibbs?" Gibbs remained silent and only glared at Deathstroke. Slade sighed and slice off Alex's shirt so that the teen had nothing on but his shorts. Motioning to the man behind Gibbs, the man came forward and handed Slade a branding iron. Alex's eyes widened and he struggled frantically against his bonds, his words muffled by the gag in his mouth.

Gibbs lunged at Alex, but the second man restrained him. "This is what happens, Gibbs," Slade told the struggling Marine, "when you don't cooperate." Gibbs' protests and pleadings were drowned out by the muffled and anguished screams of Alex. Slade pulled back the iron with a cruel smirk on his face. Gibbs was unable to tear his gaze away from where the teenager sagged against his restraints, panting heavily and holding back tears. On the boy's lower ribcage a stylized 'R' was inflamed, and Gibbs had never felt so much hatred for a single man as he did for Slade.

Slade was examining his work and gaging Alex's reaction. When the mercenary saw the hard look in Alex's eyes he chuckled. "You would definitely make a good little Robin. Or a good app—"

The window shattered at a figure came crashing through the glass and hurtled himself at Slade. The two men rolled and stood, staring each other down. Slade held up a hand to halt his two men in the room. Gibbs gazed at the man in shock—this was someone that he had never seen, only heard rumors of.

"Nightwing," Slade acknowledged. "How good of you to come. How is the family? I'm curious to know how the little Robin is faring."

"Shut up Slade," Nightwing hissed. "I don't have time for your games. Let the kid and the old man go. You have a problem with me—you take it up with me." Gibbs, slightly affronted at being called an old man, tore his eyes away from the confrontation to check on Alex. His eyes widened and he quickly glanced to see if anyone else noticed that Alex was no longer tied to the desk chair. A swift glance at the two men who held him proved that they were to focused on Nightwing and Slade to check behind them at the "helpless" kid.

The guard to Gibbs' left made a choking sound as he fell to the floor; at the same time, Gibbs swung his hands into the right guard's gut. Catching him by surprise, Gibbs was able to subdue his captor with only a little effort. The Marine looked over and saw that the other guard was down for the count as well, thanks to the teenage spy.

A tackle brought him to the ground and Gibbs prepared to beat whoever it was, but stopped short when he realized it was Alex. "Jesus, kid—what the hell was that?"

"Slade deflected something at you," Alex panted, snatching a pocketknife from the bedside-table where Gibbs presumed he had stashed it. The man made a mental note to check Alex for weapons the next time he stayed over. The boy sliced through Gibbs' bonds as the Marine kept a watch on Slade and Nightwing, who were fighting, ruining the walls, furniture, and the rest of the room.

"What did you say about my house still standing in the morning?" Gibbs remarked to Alex as the kid pulled him up. The boy laughed, but Gibbs noticed that he was still in a great deal of pain—no matter how much the adrenaline was masking it for now. "You sure you ok, kid?" Alex nodded, trying to conceal a wince as his skin around the brand stretched.

A loud crash caused Gibbs and Alex to whirl around, but they weren't fast enough. Deathstroke snatched Alex and pinned him by the throat against a wall so that his bare feet dangled and kicked about two feet from the ground. Nightwing pulled himself out from the debris that, five hours ago, was the bed the Alex slept in, and yanked Gibbs behind him.

"Tell me what you see when you look at him, Nightwing," Slade ordered, continuing a conversation the two of them have been having. "Tell me. Is he not as great as you once were? He has the athletic capabilities, the stamina, the drive, the courage. He is about the age you were, is he not? And he would be so much easier to train—after all, he has already killed dozens." As Slade spoke, he continued to choke the life out of Alex; the teen struggle but was unable to do anything. Nightwing was growing angrier with every word Slade uttered.

"Don't you dare," Nightwing commanded in a cold and hard tone so full of hatred that it sent shivers down Gibbs' spin.

Slade laughed. "I think I shall. Alex," the mercenary said, using the hand not choking the boy to force Alex to stare him in the eyes, "would you like to become my apprentice?"

Nightwing sucked in a breath and clenched his hands into fists, while Gibbs stared confusingly at the masked man. Alex's eyes widened and he made rapid choking sounds; Gibbs thought it was possible he was laughing. Slade loosened his hold so that Alex could speak.

"Are you crazy?" Alex croaked at the man. "Why the hell would I want to work for you after you kidnapped and tortured my friend? Are you sure that whatever pierced your eye didn't affect your brain?" Slade slammed Alex into the wall, snarling in anger.

"I was prepared to offer you a trade," Deathstroke hissed. "You service for your friend's life."

"Don't do it!" Nightwing shouted. "It's a trick and a trap—he did the same to me when I was a teenager."

Slade grinned. "And you made a great Red—"

Nightwing, snarling, pounced and sent himself and Deathstroke sprawling. Alex dropped to the floor and lay there, gasping heavily. Gibbs grabbed his gun, positioned himself in front of Alex, and pointed it at the two men fighting. "Freeze or I shoot!" he commanded.

Deathstroke looked at Gibbs and kicked Nightwing so that the vigilante collided with Gibbs. The mercenary then climbed out the window, leaving everyone behind.

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	8. Chapter 8

Nightwing went over to check on the other two men and cursed when he found that they were dead. "League of Assassins, I'll bet," he told Gibbs and Alex. "They have something in their teeth, a capsule of some sort, that kills them before they can be questioned."

"League of Assassin, huh," Alex commented looking at the two men. Nightwing nodded in affirmation and Alex rolled his eyes and said with a twisted smile, "I told you they'd come after me."

It took Gibbs a moment to register what Alex had said, but once he did, he smacked the boy upside the head. "Hey, what was that for?" the boy protested.

"Don't joke around about things that could get you killed," Gibbs replied shortly. "Now let's see what this madman did to you."

"I'd just like to know what he burned onto my ribcage," Alex muttered darkly. "It better not be something stupid like 'I ride purple unicorns' or anything like that."

"It's a weird 'R'," Gibbs told the teenager and when Nightwing caught sight of the brand, he froze then collapsed. "Woah, Woah, you alright there?" Gibbs asked the masked crimefighter.

Alex had found a shard of glass and was examining the brand himself. Shuffling slowly over to Nightwing, Alex sat beside the man. "Hey, it's okay," Alex told him. "It's not your fault. And maybe I can turn it into a tattoo or something. R for Rider, cause I'm a badass like that," the teen tried to joke.

Nightwing turned to look at the British teenager. "But you can't get rid of it. And it's—"

"A symbol to be proud of," Alex finished smoothly. "I'll be fine. You should be out there tracking him down."

"But—" Nightwing protested.

"Gibbs will take care of me," Alex assured the hero, motioning to the man. "And he'll be calling his team—trust me I'll be fine. Just find him and Damian."

Nightwing nodded. "I will." Alex smiled at him and waved as the man left through the window.

"I'm calling Ducky and the team," Gibbs said, confused by the entire exchange and determined to get answers. Alex nodded and said "Let me help—I'll call Tony and Dick and McGee." Gibbs nodded his consent and left the room to phone Ducky, Abby, and Ziva.

Alex reached over to the nightstand and fished around for his cell. Dialing Dick's number he found out how much longer the man needed, hung up, and then called McGee. Alex simply told McGee to head over to Gibbs' house immediately, and then called Dick again. He was back to Tony's and ready to go. Alex gave him a short message to relay and then allowed Dick the pleasure of waking up Tony.

Yawning, Alex rubbed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. It had been an eventful day, with Deathstroke trying to kill him and everything. Resolving to only close his eyes for a few minutes, Alex soon fell into a deep sleep.

Gibbs came up the stairs and entered the room, only to find Alex asleep amongst the debris. Holding back a smile, Gibbs reached down and scooped up the teenager in his arms. Alex didn't make a sound, only shifted to be more comfortable in Gibbs' embrace. The Marine found himself smiling down in a fatherly way at the teen who rested in his arms. Walking over his bedroom, Gibbs gently lowered Alex onto his bed.

"L've 'ou Jack," the teenager murmured, rolling over and curling into a ball. Gibbs froze, recalling what Alex had said about his sister-figure being dead. Gibbs could understand the pain and despair that came with that; he smiled sadly down at the battered boy sleeping in his bed.

"Children shouldn't be a part of this," Gibbs muttered, shaking his head. "You shouldn't be so relaxed about torture and what Slade did to you."

"No he shouldn't Jethro," Ducky said, causing Gibbs to turn to face his friend.

"Ducky," Gibbs breathed a sigh of relief. "Can you check—"

"On Alex," Ducky finished. "Certainly. You might want to get cleaned up before the others come—Abby especially."

"I can do that later—just tell me how Alex will be," Gibbs told his friend. Ducky nodded and began his assessment.

"We'd like to know too," Dick stated from the doorway, where Tony stood beside him.

"And I would like to know what happened," Ziva added. To her left, Tim McGee nodded in agreement.

"When Abby get here," Gibbs began, but was interrupted when the forensic analyst came running up the stairs.

"Abby's here," the goth panted. "Gibbs are you okay? What happened? Who's the kid?"

"I'm fine Abbs"," Gibbs responded. "The boy's name is Alex. He's helping us on the Wayne case."

"Why?" Abby questioned. Gibbs proceeded to explain how Alex got involved, he encounter with Deathstroke on the rooftop, and lastly explained to the entire team what had transpired hours before. When he finish, the entire team was aghast at the horror that the teenager had endured.

"Alex will be fine," Ducky announced into the silence. "He will no doubt be a tad woozy, and that branding will scar, but other than that, physically at least, he will walk away unharmed." There was a collective sigh of relief. "But I do have a question Jethro," Ducky continued. "Where did he receive this?" Ducky pointed to a circular scar mere centimeters above Alex's heart.

"It looks like a bullet wound," Ziva muttered. "But that close to the heart…it would be an assassination shot." Silence overtook the adults. Ziva looked at Gibbs. "You don't think…" she trailed off and murmured a prayer in her own language.

"Why did Slade choose to brand Alex as a Robin?" McGee finally broke the silence with his question.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "What? That's the second time I've heard that tonight. What does a robin have to do with anything?"

"Not just _a_ robin, Boss," McGee explained, "_the_ Robin. Batman's partner. The boy wonder."

"Aren't those just urban legends and superstitions?" Ziva asked.

"The two men ruining my guest bedroom weren't ghost Ziva," Gibbs responded. "Someone called Nightwing smashed through the window and fought Deathstroke."

"I did a little bit of research when I went home," McGee began, "on Deathstroke and his enemies. The name that popped up most often was a vigilante known as Nightwing. Associates of that crimefighter were pretty much everyone in the superhero community at some point or another, but mostly Batman and Robin."

"Come on McGeek," Tony chided, "I agree with Ziva there—those tales and accounts of people seeing Batman and Robin are simply legends and myths told to scare the scum of Gotham."

"Myths don't tie people up and stop the Joker," McGee argued back. "And legends don't shatter windows."

"Quiet, both of you," Gibbs ordered. "McGee, explain to me exactly who Batman is and the reason Slade marked Alex with that symbol."

"Batman showed up in Gotham years ago," Tim recited. "He quickly and effectively made a serious dent in fixing probably the most corrupt and scummy cities in the country. He was never really seen, the police commissioner described him as "a shadow of darkness". His partner's name is Robin; records and accounts claim this vigilante to be a kid, but records have shown that throughout the years Robin has changed, age-wise, as costume-wise. He started out as a kid, grew up, but the eyewitness accounts currently claim that Robin is a young child."

"So you think Alex is this Robin hero?" Ziva questioned.

"Can't be," Dick finally spoke, glancing up at them from where he had been leaning against the wall staring at Alex's prone form.

"Why not?" Gibbs roughly asked.

"Because he doesn't fit the profile," the Buldhaven cop answered simply. In response to their questioning looks, Dick elaborated. "In Bludhaven, we have files on vigilantes, especially since Nightwing often helps us out on the beat. Me and my partner studied all the files of Batman and his associates that we could get out hands on; pretty much everything that Tim said is what we found. But the Robins have all had dark hair, and Alex is fair-haired in addition to being from California, which is on the other side of the country. Not to mention that he doesn't fit the description, height-wise, for the current Robin."

"He is from California though," Tim slowly said. "Could he maybe know Robin? The Teen Titans operate out of a base there, don't they? Perhaps he's a member and knows Robin through Red Robin?"

Grayson shook his head. "That's an excellent conclusion, but he doesn't match anyone on the roster."

"You sure?" Tony inquired. Dick nodded his head in affirmation.

"Tim's not the only one who likes to do his homework," Grayson commented, grinning and glancing at the other man.

"So why then?" Abby, who had been oddly silent up until this point, asked the group assembled.

Ducky said nothing, just sadly shook his head as he closed his bag and stood up.

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**Just wanted to thank you all for your continued support- it means so much!**

**Idk if you heard the news, but apparently today (3/5/13) will be the last time Damian Wanye appears in the DC-verse (at least for a few years- there's a Lazarus Pit out there somewhere). I pretty much died when I heard the news, but I don't plan of forgetting my favorite Robin lol. So even if he's dead in the comics, he'll never be dead in my mind/heart.**

**THANKS GUYS AND PLEASE REVIEW!**


	9. Chapter 9

"Whatever the reason, I do hope this brute and the others are punished. I never want to see such scars on any teenager ever again!" the medical examiner exclaimed. "First it was young Damian, now the boy. I question all that is good in this world when I come across horrors like this. Whenever you find that man, I hope you punish him severely," Ducky finished cruelly, as side of the Scottish man never truly witnessed before.

"The others, Dr. Mallard?" Dick questioned hesitantly. "What do you mean?"

"My dear boy, that body over there is riddled with such scars and marks that come with having been through war. Starting with the obvious, that is a gunshot wound over his heart. Now if Ziva's correct, which I'm sure she is, that's an assassination shot which failed, obviously. Next we have the number of small scars that alone would mean anything, but together point to a bigger picture. Not to mention that he is completely calm about all that has occurred, which points to prior training."

"He is a spy," Tony offered, as if that explained it all.

"Which is the bloody problem!" the doctor exploded and everyone's eyes widened in shock. "He is a young teenager and already scarred and abused and god knows what else! This is downright wrong Jethro; put him in protective custody and send him home."

Abby reached out and hugged Ducky while looking pointedly at Gibbs. "Can you do that Gibbs? Please?"

"No, he can't," Dick interrupted and held up his hands in surrender before Abby could verbally—or physically—attack him. "Look Abby, I want Alex out of this just as much as you do; it's no place for children. But it doesn't matter what we want.

"Why not?" the analyst challenged.

"Because he's too strong-willed," Dick softly replied. "And we wouldn't be able to do anything to stop him from helping in this investigation. If we put him on a plane and send him home, besides him no longer trusting us, he'd find a way to come back and work on his own. Then we'd have absolutely no chance of protecting him. And just because he's in California doesn't make him safe; Slade could always find him. I don't know about you but I would sleep better at night knowing that Gibbs and the rest of the team are within a distance to protect him.

"I guess you're right," Abby conceded grudgingly while Ducky nodded in agreement.

"I wish I wasn't," Dick told her, shaking his head in despair. "Believe me."

"Besides Abby," Ziva commented, "not to be a Dorothy Downer—"

"Debbie," Tony and McGee corrected in unison.

Ziva huffed and rolled her eyes, "Debbie Downer, but Alex is not a normal civilian. He is too connected in this case—he wouldn't be able to just detach himself from the investigation. As much as I hate to say it, it is much better that he stays with us."

"He's not going to leave my sight," Gibbs swore in what some might consider fatherly concern and worry as he gazed down at the sleeping child.

"I admire your effort Gibbs," Officer Grayson commented as he rested a hand on the Marine's shoulder, "but I doubt you'll be able to keep that oath. Alex, besides being a spy, is also a teenager. I've had enough experience going off myself and my younger brothers to know that even keeping an eye of a regular teen is a difficult task."

Gibbs let out a painful chuckle. "Doesn't mean I can't try kid," he told the younger man. Dick offered him a smile as he pulled away and went over to speak to Tony and Tim. Gibbs motioned Ducky over the man obliged. Glancing at Ziva and Abby who were hovering over Alex's sleeping form, Gibbs quietly whispered to Ducky. "Am I doing the right thing here Duck? Keeping Alex here?"

"What does your gut tell you, Jethro?" the wise doctor asked.

"I don't know what it's telling me anymore," the Marine responded, shaking his head.

"Perhaps you feel as if you're getting a little too attached to the boy," Ducky quietly suggested. "We both know how you feel about getting children involved. And an assassination shot? Perhaps this hits a little too close to home, Jethro. I back you whatever you choose to do, but remember—these two boys, Alex and Damian, are not your average children. I know you want them safe and out of the line of fire, but I doubt that will happen. Just observe them Jethro—both have little regard for their own safety when it comes to protecting others. It's the same thing you do, but you are an adult with a weapon and years of experience, while they are just children with more skills than they should have, playing a dangerous game. Before you do anything rash, I'd dwell on the fact that you and that boy passed out in your bed aren't as different as you wish you were.

Gibbs said nothing but looked Ducky straight in the eye; the wise doctor offered a small smile. "Just do whatever you gut tells you." He checked on Alex one more time, then turned to the room and announced his departure. After bidding the team and Officer Grayson goodbye, he was about to exit the door when Gibbs called his name. Turning, the medical examiner faced his old friend, a questioning look across his face.

"Thanks, Duck," Gibbs stated as he waved his friend farewell. Ducky smiled, tipped his hat, and told everyone he'd see them at the NCIS Building later on that day.

"Everyone, back to your homes—you need all the sleep you can get. It's going to be a long day at the office tomorrow," Gibbs order the room. There we noises of protest, but Gibbs sternly and firmly ushered them all out of the house. Once everyone was gone, he went up to keep watch over Alex. The British teenager was still asleep, and to avoid looking the burned symbols on Alex's chest, the man threw a warm blanket over the sleeping boy.

As much as Gibbs wanted to distance himself from the teenager, he constantly found his thoughts wandering back to the boy. Alex Rider was a mystery, a puzzle, and Gibbs did not like knowing only half the story. Rider was a spy; a retired one at age 15. One who had obviously seen real action and been sent out on real missions. Missions that Gibbs and his team knew nothing about. Gibbs could easily ask McGee to hack into the CIA if the boy's file wasn't available; but he couldn't do that to Alex—the teenager had obvious trust issues and Gibbs did not want to cement those issues any further by going behind Alex's back. There was always the option to ask the kid himself, but Gibbs knew from personal experience that sharing your past wasn't the easiest thing in the world.

As the Marine sat there, he realized that it wasn't the secrets of Alex's spying days that annoyed him, but rather that fact that he seemed to know more about Damian's disappearance and the events surrounding it that the team did. Alex's strange conversation with Nightwing and the comment that Grayson made in the elevator—about Alex knowing more, depending on what Damian shared with him.

Grayson. That man was a whole other puzzle for Gibbs to figure out. He was definitely much more that an ordinary cop, that much was certain. And Gibbs didn't mean different in the "oh he's the son of Bruce Wayne" kind of way. There was something that ran deeper—much deeper. And Alex seemed to have grasped it in a way that the other agents had yet too. Even though both newcomers were hiding something, Gibbs knew he and his team could trust them both. And Gibbs was willing to go to whatever lengths necessary in order to finish his main priority—finding and rescuing Damian Wayne.

As these weighty thoughts swirled around in his head, Gibbs found his eyelids growing heavier and heavier, and he soon took solace in his slumber.

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**Hope you guys are still enjoying this story- I still love writing it :)**

**and for those of you that are wondering, no I have not forgotten about Chuck vs The Brit and plan on updating it within the next couple weeks. Thanks all, for sticking by me!**

**PLEASE REVIEW! :) **


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